Shortly Thereafter
by boo boo fishlake
Summary: SEX! Now that i have your attention, this is a tale of classic Hermione and Draco love. Both work at Hogwarts as teachers. As for sex... not sure yet read and find out...
1. Old Foes

Shortly Thereafter  
  
Draco Malfoy couldn't be more relieved when the Hogwarts Express arrived at the old familiar castle. His 6'4" frame could only stand confidant for so long. At twenty-nine, he was restless and not yet ready to settle down for longer than need be.  
It had been over a decade ago, in his seventh year, that Harry Potter had finally defeated Lord Voldemort here, on these grounds. Draco hadn't been back since then. He wasn't emotional, but there were a lot of memories that he didn't want to deal with. Any wizard or witch you asked could tell you that Draco had played a key role in Lord Voldemort's downfall, but no one knew what. It was Draco's betrayal that had helped Harry defeat Voldemort, but only he knew. He knew, and so did Harry Potter.  
Draco was nearly run over, as he left the train, by first years. Was he really once that short? He chuckled to himself. No one would ever believe it.  
"First years! First years, over here, please." A woman's voice rang out. Draco turned wondering why it wasn't Hagrid's gruff addressing the first years. Draco had gotten to know Hagrid better one summer, years before, when Dumbledore asked him to accompany Hagrid on an exploration to South America, when people started to claim dragon sightings. Draco and Hagrid some how managed to get along, and they remained civil thereafter. Draco was actually looking forward to seeing the old teacher again.  
He was caught off guard when he saw who was addressing the first year students. The speaker was a young woman, probably around his age, but she looked much younger. Her sleek brown hair was braided to her waist, but wisps of it had escaped and were gently blowing in the slight September wind. Deep brown eyes skimmed over the list of first year's names. He looked away, as if casually skimming the crowd, embarrassed to be caught staring.  
The woman was lovely, he did give her that, but he quickly pushed her image to the back of his mind, for more reasons than one. Something about her was trying to grab his attention, but he ignored it. The last thing he needed was a silly schoolboy crush, especially to the Serena Flasco. Draco shook his head to clear his mind and went to find Dumbledore.  
~*~  
The Great Hall was a buzz when Hermione Granger finally arrived. She'd had to run up to her rooms in Gryfindor dormitories to change after a couple of the first years capsized their boat. Hermione had to retrieve them and was soaked to the bone in the process.  
Grabbing a clean robe, she had unbraided her wet hair and twisted it up into a loose bun. Unfortunately, she had no time to use a drying spell on her hair or wet robes. She would have to dry them later.  
As Hermione sat down in her appointed seat, she noticed Dumbledore talking to the man she'd caught staring at her when she was rounding up first years. Who was he? He looked terribly familiar. Hermione's eyes widened. Unless she was mistaken, he was none other than,  
"Draco Malfoy!" Snape pushed past her seat, a rather obvious attempt to smoosh her small body between the chair and table and chair. Although Hermione had been teaching American Muggle Culture for five years [A/N: I know, I know. There is no such class in the books, but this is called "taking an artistic license", so deal live with it.(] , including this upcoming term, Snape had never quite grasped that itty-bitty, but ever so very crucial detail that she to was now a teacher now. Hermione rolled her eyes. Men.  
So, Draco Malfoy, her arch-nemesis, was at Hogwarts. He looked good, Hermione had to admit. With his robes unbuttoned, she could see he was wearing a grey sweater that exenterated his well-defined muscles in a very good way, and the sweater matched his eyes exactly. He was talking to Snape and his face suddenly broke into a smile that lit up his entire face. Hermione almost melted on the spot before she could stop herself. 'Stop it,' she commanded herself. 'Stop it now. Men are nothing but trouble.'  
Okay, so he looked decent. It's no crime to think a man was attractive. But what the heck was he doing at Hogwarts?  
Dumbledore answered her unasked question. "Please join me in welcoming Mr. Draco Malfoy to our teaching staff. Mr. Malfoy will be serving as a replacement flying instructor for Professor Oquar, who, as most of you know is expecting her first child this month."  
Well, that was an improvement. As former seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Malfoy would, no doubt do a better teaching job than Professor Oquar. When Madame Hooch retired to, as she put it, "She the world from a broomstick again." Professor Oquar was the only person available to take her place. The professor was the biggest bimbo Hermione had ever met. The woman probably would've gotten on her broomstick backwards if Snape hadn't given her a few "teaching tips". "Getting tips" was Oquar's alibi for going to Snape's private quarters almost every night for a month. Sure, she might've gotten a few tips, but you van bet your bonnet they weren't holed up to talk about teaching. [A/N: Could I be anymore obvious?]  
Well, whatever Oquar and Snape spent their hours doing, it brought them both to the alter on hot humid day in June, and not to long after Oquar announced that she was pregnant and due that coming September. You do the math.  
~*~  
Draco couldn't get the young woman he had seen off his mind. What was it about her? He was about to ask Snape who she was, when Hagrid turned to talk to him.  
"Changed 'asn't she?"  
"Wha—who?" Draco tried to act surprised. Hagrid chuckled heartily.  
"It's fine for yeh to be lookin'. Yeh'll not be the first one. Hermione has fetched quite a few looks."  
Draco did a double take. That was Granger? Good Lord, she had changed! "What happened to her hair?" he managed to spit out.  
More laughter from Hagrid. "Straightenin' spell. 'Ermione invented it 'erself."  
Typical. Perfect Granger would go off and invent herself a spell. Draco snorted. Go figure.  
"What does she teach?" Draco asked, trying to maintain a casual tone.  
"She teaches American Muggle Culture," Snape butted in, his voice icy. "Why Dumbl—"  
"—And she does a fine job at it!" Hagrid cut him off. He glared at Snape as if daring him to continue.  
Draco sighed. Some things, apparently, never change.  
~*~  
The next morning, Draco awoke with his stomach in knots. What the heck was he getting himself into? 'Good, Lord,' he chided himself, 'What have I gotten myself into? You don't know the first thin about teaching and you're clueless around kids.' Draco laughed out loud to himself. If Oquar could do it, than how hard could it be?  
Thank goodness he didn't teach first period. He could go down to the teachers lounge and get himself organized. Who knows, maybe someone in the lounge could give him some teaching advice.  
Draco stayed in the lounge until first period ended. As he hurried down the hall, he smacked right into a person carrying an insanely huge pile of books, sending the books flying. The person shrieked as the books clattered to the floor.  
Draco quickly stood up and dusted himself off. He stooped down to help pick up the books.  
"Oh Lord. I'm sorry," the book carrier apologized. Draco looked up. Hermione. He should've known. "The first day of term is always hard," Hermione continued, oblivious to the identity of her helper.  
"In more ways than one." Draco replied. Hermione's head shot up at the sound of his deep voice. Her eyes widened in surprise—or was it fear? —before she narrowed them, glaring at him suspiciously.  
"I'll take those." She said briskly, snatching the books Draco was holding.  
"What?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Are you afraid I'll hurt your precious books?"  
"Why wouldn't you? You never hesitated to hurt me before." Hermione answered viciously. Draco was surprised at the ferocity of her answer. "Lord, above, Hermione, we haven't seen each other in twelve years. You might get to know a person again before you judge so quickly."  
"Why would I want to know you?" Hermione hissed, spitting out the word you like it was a dirty word. "I know you Malfoy, and you don't do anything unless you want something in return. Besides I know for a fact you don't help old enemies, out of the" she glared at him and then continued sarcastically, "goodness of your heart."  
"Let's get one thing straight, Granger," Draco growled, pulling her to her feet, sending the books flying again. "Just because I was less than civil to you and your friends—"  
"Less than civil?" Hermione sputtered, but Draco ignored her.  
"It doesn't mean I'm like that to every one. I can be civil." He leaned in closer inches from her face, and went on. "You think you know Draco Malfoy. Heartless, evil, Satan reincarnate Draco. You know nothing, Granger. I've seen and heard things no human can wish on another person. I've been to hell and back." Hermione could feel his hot breath on her face and she shuddered. Neither had moved since he closed in on her face, and her sudden movement brought to reality exactly how intimate they had become. Both pulled away from each other, faces and necks warm with embarrassment. They dropped their eyes and took off down the hall in opposite directions, leaving the books. Neither one was going to admit that they liked being that close.  
  
To be continued... 


	2. Pangs of Pity and Potter's Kid

Shortly Thereafter Chapter 2. Pangs of Pity and Potter's Kid  
  
"Ms. Granger," a voice pulled Hermione from her thoughts. "Are you alright?"  
Hermione looked up to find Shawn Wood looking at her concern filling his brilliant blue eyes. Hermione smiled. Shawn Wood had his mother's eyes.  
"I'm fine Shawn," she reassured him. "How's your mom and dad doing?" Oliver Wood had hooked up with Alicia Spinnet a year out of school and were married in the spring. Shawn was the eldest of their children, three years older than his sister Kelsey.  
"Mum's fine," The brown haired boy answered brightly, convinced that his teacher was fine. "Dad is fine too, but he's a bit crotchety since he can't play quidditch." Shawn suddenly looked pained as though he had said too much.  
Hermione laughed inwardly. "How's your dad's shoulder doing?" Wood had injured his shoulder a month prior and the Healers at St. Mungo's had decided to let it heal Muggle-style, for reasons to complicated to explain here.  
"It's healing fine, though not fast enough for Dad." Shawn reported. He turned and sat down in a seat next to a redheaded boy. The two chatted amiably for a minute or so until the class had assembled and Hermione hushed.  
Hermione looked over her class list. She had 13 students total ranging from fourth years to seventh years.  
  
Morgan Avinast 7th year  
Chaverick Goyle 4th year  
Phil Janter 5th year  
Robyn Keaklin 5th year  
Magrette Leekra 7th year  
Lizzy Omposim 4th year  
Cameron Paperma 6th year  
Carmen Paperma 6th year  
Ahava Peckroh 7th year  
Mindy Smitte 5th year  
Caleb Taikore 7th year  
Shawn Wood 4th year  
Lauri Wyles 6th year  
  
Hermione took attendance, identifying the teenagers as she went along. Goyle, big like his father. The Paperma twins, identical from their jet black hair to the matching mischievous glint in their eyes. Mindy Smitte, brilliant blonde hair and the trademark Slytherin sneer. Laurie Wyles, quiet and shy, baby blue eyes framed by glasses.  
"Put away your wands," Hermione instructed, shuffling through one of her desk drawers. Her request was greeted by disappointed groans. "We're going outside.  
  
On the other side of the school, Draco Malfoy was trying in vain to bring his class of rowdy first years into some sort of conformity. The second he got one group of kids quieted enough to actually be heard, something set off another group of kids. It seemed in all honesty, hopeless.  
"Alright!" Draco bellowed, kicking himself mentally for yelling at the class in the first five minutes of the first day. "If each and every one of you pint-sized terrors do not shut your ever-open mouth, I will see that none of you ever fly so much as a foot off the ground." It was an empty threat, but none of the first years were going to challenge the authority of the towering bulk of a teacher in front of them anymore.  
Draco exhaled through his nose and began to take attendance.  
Mark Avinast? Here.  
Roy Keaklin? Here.  
Pam Lackley? Here.  
Soury Nombris? Here.  
Caeli Potter?  
Caeli Potter?!  
"Caeli Potter?" He called.  
"Aye?" A small, black haired girl emerged from a crowd of students. Her black hair fell to her shoulders, pulled back into a half pony tail by a clip.  
"Are you...?" Draco trailed off, already knowing the answer.  
Caeli's green eyes twinkled. "Yup," she told him grinning, though not in a prideful way. "Harry Potter's my dad."  
Great. Out of all the bloody first years in Hogwarts, he would get Potter's daughter in his first class. What a brilliant way to start out the year.  
  
Second period left Hermione in exuberant mood. Her first lesson had gone smoothly. The teenagers had been introduced to basketball and they'd loved it. After they'd gotten over the initial shock of a sport brooms, they found that it was somewhat like quidditch, minus the brooms. Of course, Hermione had to explain to that oaf of a boy, Chaverick Goyle, numerous times that there are absolutely no bludgers in basketball and he should not use the ball in such a manner. Still things were going well.  
When she got back inside, she found a number of books stacked neatly on her desk. As she suspected they were the books she had dropped earlier. Hermione made a mental note to thank the house elves.  
The remaining periods flew by. Hermione was a good teacher and her students, with a few exceptions, were genuinely interested in the subject. She couldn't ask for more.  
After running to her rooms to freshen up—basketball had been exhausting—Hermione headed to the Great Hall. She was starving.  
When she got to the Great Hall, she was surprised to see Malfoy sitting next to her usual seat instead of McGonagall. Draco must have seen the confusion in her eyes, because he answered her question before she could ask it.  
"The professor wanted to talk to Snape," he informed her dryly. Then with the tiniest trace of a smirk he added, "So your suck with me today."  
Hermione sighed and sat down. She began to eat the meal suddenly. Dealing with jerk-face Malfoy was no on her list of things to do today.  
A sharp rap on the table interrupted her apparently dismal mood. A small black haired girl stood before her. Shaking off her dismal mood, Hermione smiled warmly at the girl. "Yes, Caeli?"  
"Hi, 'Mione," Caeli said, using her nickname. "Mum told me to give this to you." She produced and envelop from a pocket in her robes.  
"Thank you, Caeli." Hermione leaned over the table to kiss Caeli on the forehead. "How are Ginny and your dad doing?"  
"They're fine, although worried sick about me. Honestly I think I'm fine, don't you?" She turned and went back to her table but not before greeting Malfoy. "Hi. Mr. Malfoy."  
As soon as she was out of earshot, Hermione turned on Draco. "She's in your class. Why didn't you tell me?"  
"You never asked." Draco said simply. He looked worn out, Hermione noticed, and tired. In short, he looked as if he had no energy to dish out any snide or sharp comments.  
"Hard day?" Hermione asked, asking herself at the same time why she cared.  
"To put it lightly." Draco answered with wry smile. "After this year is over I'm going to need some serious therapy." He chuckled softly to himself, but his laughter was without mirth.  
Hermione felt an uncharactoristic pang of pity for her old foe. To her mind Draco just really wasn't teacher material. WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! Hold on! Pity? That was understandable, Hermione was a compasionate person. But Pity for Malfoy? Hermione started to smile to herself ant the absurdity of it. Her smile froze when she realized that she knew, deep in her heart, it wasn't absurd at all. That perhaps pity was on the beginning. 


	3. Dumbledore's Decision

Shortly Thereafter Chapter 3. Dumbledore's Decision  
  
The month of September flew by, swept along by the hustle and bustle of the beginning of school, and soon gave way into October. One October morn, amidst a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and French toast, Dumbledore stood to make an announcement.  
"Many, many years ago, before any of us, even I, were born, there was a man named Portuous Phiphitty. Portuous was an old fashioned old codget and unfortunately he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts." He paused, letting the students take this all in." He believed that one comes to school only to learn. As a result of his beliefs, he did away with dances or galas, as they sometimes called them, and other social events so boys could not get distracted by girls and vise-versa."  
"Hey Professor!" A voice from the Slytherin table called. "How about a point?"  
Dumbledore laughed good-naturedly. "I'm getting there, Jahonon." The caller blushed. "Last year, you students did so well academically, that I've decided to reinstate galas this year." Cheers and applause from the student body greeted this. Dumbledore quieted them and droned on about failing and privileges for about ten minutes, but no one was really listening. The students were to busy chattering amongst themselves about the dance.  
  
The following Monday, an invitation was posted in all the House common rooms.  
  
All are cordially invited to attend a Hallows Eve Gala,  
to be held on Saturday, October the thirty-first. The  
gala will commence at seven o'clock and close at the  
hour of eleven o'clock.  
This gala is a masquerade, please dress accordingly.  
  
One after another, students found the posted invitations or heard about the dance through friends. Soon the halls were abuzz and in class no amount of threats could buy their attention. Only when they were reminded that failing revoked their dance privileges did the students settle down.  
Hermione finally got some peace when she began her music unit of American Muggle Culture. Pulling out her keyboard she amazed the class with her rendition of "Respect".[A.N. Cheesy though it might be, I like it.] Once the class heard her play they became fascinated with the keyboard. Using a multiplying charm, Hermione issued each of her students a keyboard, along with an assignment to compose something.  
For the rest of the period, the teenagers played with their new toys. Carmen Paperma developed a quick feel for the keyboard and was composing little ditties in no time. Unfortunately for the rest of the class, her twin did not share her skill. Cameron Paperma, try as he might, was hopelessly tone deaf.  
'Oh well', Hermione thought. 'Ya, win some, ya lose some.'  
  
Draco Malfoy was having no such luck. No matter what he did, every time he turned his back, everything broke loose. Girls launched into endless chatter about dresses, makeup, hair and occasionally, accompanied by giggles, dates. Some of them danced together, dreaming about that certain boy that captured their interest. And worst of all, any time Draco tried to divert their attention to the subject he was teaching, they broke into fits of giggles and gave him very strange looks that more often than not, made him perplexed, which made them giggle all the more.  
The first years finally decided to pay attention to Draco, but only after he threatened to assign them a five-foot essay to complete over the weekend of the dance. Draco sighed. He could not wait until the week was over and the dance was history. His nerves were thoroughly fried.  
When Draco got back to his rooms, he saw a notice on the end table to his favorite arm chair. Raising an eyebrow, he picked it up and read it.  
  
D. Malfoy,  
Could you possibly chaperone the Hallows Eve Gala?  
If not please let me know.  
-Dumbledore  
  
Little did Malfoy know that in another section of the castle, Hermione Grange was picking up her own notice. 


	4. 123

This is a screw up please ignore this chapter. The real chapter four will be updated as soon as possible. 


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